My doctor wasn't entirely sure what the scan meant, but she had a plan and reassured us that this would not define our future even if it was overwhelmingly terrifying in our present. I tried to remain calm as I shared all of this with J the moment my doctor left the exam room, and he responded with questions and statements of clarification. What are the numbers? What does it look like? So this is what we do next? Yes, that sounds accurate. Yes, I would agree with that plan. . . "You're using your doctor voice," I said. "I know," he said stolidly. Then, more quietly, "I need to right now." J has two voices he uses with me: the husband voice and the doctor voice. The husband voice is what he uses when we're planning for dinner, deciding what show to watch on Netflix, or complaining about whose turn it is to wash the dishes or do the laundry. Husband voice grew out of fiancé voice, which evolved from boyfriend voice. Throughout its evolution it has become less self-conscious and more compassionate; it finds the right words faster and understands the value of silence when the moment calls for it. Husband voice knows me intimately. It wraps around my shoulders like a knitted afghan on a windy night, blows cool air onto the back of my neck when the air clings to me uncomfortably, and brushes the hair from my eyes when I cannot see. Husband voice is empathetic - it tries on my heart to see how it fits, how it feels, and returns it to me. My heart always comes back a little bigger, a tad stretched out, and more comfortable than before.
Doctor voice is calculated and well-informed, concise and direct. It does not meander, get distracted, or look away. Doctor voice is steady, strong, capable, experienced. It can contextualize the terrible and normalize those things that feel so acutely concerning. At the same time, it can amplify the most minor detail to a worrisome degree, turning "It's probably nothing" into "Please call the doctor." For this it must be detached, not so empathetic as to diminish its poignancy. It must not be tethered to the whims of the heart, but led steadfastly by the calculations of the mind. Both voices have their place in our home, and J is adept at code-switching to use the right one in the right context. Sometimes I will notice something in my body and ask him for his doctor voice - "Do you think I'm eating well? What is causing this pain? Which medication would work best for these symptoms?" I appreciate the doctor voice in those moments because I want someone to tell me when not to worry and keep me from going down a Google Hole where nothing is benign. There are times when he asks me "Do you want the doctor voice or husband voice?" He usually asks when I'm feeling scared or upset, so I will tell him honestly. I often like a little bit of both; the expertise of the doctor voice followed by the compassion of the husband. And he is happy to oblige. But there are other times when his own feelings come into play and doctor voice becomes a shield to hide behind. As a surgical resident he has developed the very necessary skill of professionalism in the face of sadness. Although it is very much his compassion that drives his work, it is his ability to detach himself from emotional reactions that allows him to focus on the injury, the scalpel, the needle, the numbers. So when my own doctor shares less than stellar news that affects us both, J's doctor voice takes over to protect him from the emotions that will, undoubtedly, hurt. It is a defense, just like my own teacher voice. It is an attempt to feign control over an uncontrollable situation, to pretend we know what the hell we're doing. If we sound like we've seen this before then the novelty of the situation will feel like little more than a curiosity, like a jigsaw puzzle on the kitchen table left for lazy Sunday afternoons to be finished or swept aside. If we act professional, maybe we can stay above it all. In those moments when doctor voice usurps the husband voice, I am not sure where to turn. I feel alone, surrounded by doctors but without my partner at my side. And still, I know in those moments that he is the most acutely empathetic and that whatever fear I have within me is within him too, hiding just behind the white coat.
1 Comment
Asher_Pat
7/15/2018 11:34:38 pm
Your writing is sooo beautiful. The description of your feelings and thoughts, to me, not being a doctor nor a doctor's partner, seem to paint a faithful picture of your, and other's, experiences. Thank you.
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AuthorNashira is a music teacher and proud Small-Town Jew who, after surthriving six years in Brooklyn for her husband's surgical residency, is finally back in Wisconsin where she belongs! At least until the end of the two-year surgical fellowship, that is. It's a wild ride, and she's ready to tell you all about it! Archives
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